


cut my hair

by spideyguts



Category: Captain America, Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Barista Steve, Bucky has issues, Clint is one of those issues, College Student Bucky, College Student Steve, Deaf Clint Barton, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is in College, M/M, Natasha and Wanda are big lesbians, finally some good fucking food
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 17:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14383920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideyguts/pseuds/spideyguts
Summary: Bucky never enjoyed toothpaste much. The taste and smell made him want to vomit, he’d rather have Natasha punch him in the gut than taste the disgusting minty disgrace. He also didn’t like the fact that there were specific set times for you to brush your teeth, like really, who came up with the idea of giving your teeth bath times?





	cut my hair

**Author's Note:**

> not betad bc im lazy. i’ll try my best to update consistently, comments & kudos are appreciated!

Bucky never enjoyed toothpaste much. The taste and smell made him want to vomit, he’d rather have Natasha punch him in the gut than taste the disgusting minty disgrace. He also didn’t like the fact that there were specific set times for you to brush your teeth, like really, who came up with the idea of giving your teeth bath times? 

But maybe Bucky’s annoyance was compensating for brushing his teeth at nearly 11 am, eyes barely open and pajama pants slung low on his hips. As he spit out death itself in convienent tube form, he sighed. Wiping his mouth off on a nearby towel and looking at his reflection he deemed, 

“I look like shit.” 

His hair was being unruly, curling up at odd ends. He had recently grown it to about his shoulders before Clint forcibly shoved him into the nearest barber shop, and he had to say goodbye to his precious locks. Now it was short, but long enough to slick back and comb through. 

After he quickly changed into black jeans that clung to him in (in the words of Clint) unruly ways, and slipping on a hoodie he slicked his hair back as best he could while rushing. He shut off the bathroom light and made his way over to his kitchen. Which was about a good 10 feet away. Living in downtown Brooklyn wasn’t cheap, and if Bucky can get the luxury of living in a shitbox downtown, then he’ll take it. Being a broke college student was exhausting. His stomach growled in agreement. 

Sliding his phone and metro card off the counter he checked his texts, five from Nat telling him to hurry the hell up. Why he agreed to have her as his partner for their most recent photo project, he doesn’t know. She was his best friend, sure. But she was bossy and had a better eye than him, which made him a slight bit jealous. Slightly. 

After the shitshow that is the metro, Bucky had never been happier to see Natasha with her arms crossed and death glare. 

“You’re late.” 

She handed him a coffee cup. Not bothering to look down at it, he robotically took a swig and smiled at her. 

“And you’re the best. Thanks. I’m pretty sure our professor is trying to kill us.” He ran a hand through his hair before wincing at the fact that gel stuck it down. Stupid Clint. He’d have to learn how to sign, ‘I hate you, you thick headed idiot.’ so he’d know how much pain he’s in. He really missed his hair. 

His hair had really been the only thing he had going for him, it was almost like a mask. He’s been so insecure for the past how many years that having it to cover him and keep him shielded helped in a number of ways. Now he was left vulnerable and cold as wind hit the sides of his cheeks, coffee only doing so much to warm the hollow insides of them. 

“and that’s when I got his number. Bucky, are you even listening?” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow as they walked through the park, turning his head to his best friend. His bad habits had been seeming to grow in number, zoning out becoming one of them. Life one, Buck 0. 

“Uhm, yeah.” Bullshit. His brain wrapped around what his ears had caught and he smirked at his friend. “Yeah, yeah. You got a boys number? Nat, not that I don’t support all your decisions dumb and smart alike, but you kind of have a girlfriend-“ 

Natasha rolled her eyes. Bucky was starting to wonder if she did that any more than she usually does, they’d get stuck in her skull.

“No, moron. I don’t think Wanda would want me texting a blue eyed barista. I got the number for you.” 

She pointed to the cup in his hand. Dumbfounded, he looked down at where his hand was covering the logo, right next to it was a scribbled chicken scratch number. Closing his eyes and clenching his teeth he sighed. 

“Nat, I told you I don’t need to see someone.” Nat shook her head as they arrived at their college campus, stopping Bucky before he could run off. His arm burned at the contact and hot, burning shame rolled through him. 

“Maybe you don’t need to see someone, but you should consider it, James. It’d be good for you. You can’t spend the rest of your life alone because you’re too scared to get hurt. You can’t run forever.” She put a hand on his shoulder, and suddenly Bucky felt very small and vulnerable. The wind only felt that much cooler against his cheeks. 

“I’ll text you later, we’re going out tonight with Clint and Wanda. Maybe you should invite blue eyes.”

And with that she was strutting off to her first class, and Bucky was left clutching his coffee cup just a little bit harder.  
-  
‘Hey, sorry my insane redhead friend got your number but she told me I needed to get my head out of my ass and see someone, you down to go to dinner tonight with me, her, and my other friend who is now dead to me?’ 

Too much. Hitting the back button on his keyboard Bucky sighed. How does one do this? Text a stranger they’ve never met or seen before, and ask them to dinner? Sure it was as a friend, (for now) (or never) but that didn’t make it any less weird. For all he knows blue eyes could be a murderer, writing his numbers on cups and luring his victims in one by one with irresistible charm.

Yeah. That’s probably unlikely. Gathering up courage, Bucky managed to send a text. 

Bucky: hey, this may be weird but my friend nat got your number earlier, for me, which is odd aha.

Bucky felt his heart race, was that too casual? Or not casual enough? How does one go about texting random boys? Hell, he could be expecting Natasha to text him and not Bucky. What if he didn’t even like guys? Snapping him out of his panic, his phone dinged in his hands. 

Blue eyes: Kinda weird? Very weird. 

Bucky started to panic, he knew this would be a stupid idea. His face burned as his pulse quickened. Its fine, he told himself. There’s nothing to even worry about, or be embarrassed about. He doesn’t know who you are, he knows absolutely nothing. You can just go on with your life, without ever knowing if the coffee making blue eyed- 

Blue eyes: But who says very weirds bad? I’m down for pretty weird. Are you down? ;) 

Bucky swallowed as he read the text, had blue eyes meant the winking face? Did he just mistype? God, this was fucking strange. He should just put the phone down and move on. 

Bucky: I’m down. 

His thumbs betrayed him. Fuckin’ hell. 

Blue eyes: Well, Bucky, my names Steve. I told your friend that, but she insisted on calling me everything else but my name. Lol

Bucky smiled at that. He wondered what Steve sounded like when he actually laughed. Suddenly he really wanted to hear this stranger speak. And it was so like Nat to be the cause of something as absurd as this. 

Now to gather enough courage to ask said stranger to join him and his friends for dinner. The pros are that he’d get to see this boy, Steve, and hear that laugh he suddenly wants to hear. He’d be meeting someone new. Someone who could possibly be more than a friend, which would get Nat off his back constantly about finding him a date, or worse, a husband. He grimaced at the idea of marriage, it didn’t seem up Bucky’s lane at this point in his life. The cons are, Steve could be weird. Like murderer weird, or creep level weird. But, on the contrary his friends would be with him in public so his chances of getting killed are way less. Fuck it. 

Buck: steve. kinda plain. also sorry about Nat, she’s kinda wild. 

He liked the name a lot. 

Buck: speaking of her, me and her and maybe a few others are going out tonight. would you like to come with? 

Not even a minute later the typing bubble came up, and in came a text. 

Steve: Sure, sounds like a plan. Just text me the address and I’ll be there. And hey, i’m sure there’s a few ways that my name could sound less plain. ;) 

Bucky decided that the winky emoji hadn’t been accidental. 

He also decided that those two winky emojis just sent his comfortable stance in life into a frantic spiral. 

Fuck it.


End file.
